Echoes On The Lake
by Dreamer of Riddles
Summary: They were there, and then they were not. They vanished, and all that was left was the echoes. [FF:SS, AU][temporarily halted]
1. Vanishing

**Echoes On The Lake

* * *

**

Hello, everyone. I'm not going to say much before I start this, because there is not much I can say. If you want to hear me say things, I suggest you read my profile.

**Warning:** AU, minor language, minor suggestive themes, crude humor, etcetera. Don't read if you can't handle those things, plus many more that remain unknown.

**Synopsis:** Once something is gone, all that is left is an echo, a clue to where it might have gone. Following such clues, the lives of many youths are about to change, for better, or…for worst.

**Romances:** Ephraim/L'Archael, Eirika/Seth, Innes/OC, Forde/OC, One-sided Vanessa/Innes, Amelia/Ewan, Joshua/Natasha. Open for more suggestions.

**Disclaimer:** Look, I'm only going to say this once. I do NOT own Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones, the plot, the characters, and all pertaining to it. I DO, however, own the characters, buildings, and all pertaining to Blue Star Valley. This includes Echo Lake, Echo Lake Inn, and Starville.

Let us begin…

* * *

Prologue: Vanishing

* * *

_Continent of Magvel_

Before the sun rose, all of the Sacred Stones had vanished.

The empire of Grado was first. Ruled by the Silent Emperor Vigarde, no one could fathom how a thief could slip into the mighty palace unnoticed and escape with the treasure of the empire in hand. Yet, deep into the night, the stone faded into nothing.

Second was the desert of Jehanna. In the royal palace that sits majestically upon the sand, the Stone lay with close reach to the Queen of the White Dunes, Ismaire. How could a queen who protected her land and ruled with a fair and firm grip let the holy light that banished evil slip away? No one knew.

The Theocracy of Rausten was third to be struck by terror as their relic vanished right out from under the nose of the Divine Emperor, Mansel. Though the palace tried to keep the news a secret, praying that it was simply a servant playing a sick joke, word soon spread throughout the theocracy, shocking those who were awake and awakening those who slept.

Fourth was the land of Frelia. Perched on an engraved alter high atop the Tower of Valni, the Sacred Stone of Frelia seemed to melt into an invisible existence, gone from sight and long out of touch or smell. Jolted from his sleep and filled with terror, the Sage King Hayden tried to calm his fretful daughter and enraged son as he tried to calm himself.

Finally, the Kingdom of Renais was struck by this intangible demon. The peerless Warrior King Fado had vowed at his ascension to the throne that he would protect the Stone of Renais. Yet, now, it was gone. And not a soul in the kingdom knew where it went.

Now, the sun was barely over the horizon, and King Fado paced up and down length of the well-furnished living room, located in the private wing where royalty slept.

"How could something like this happen? What sort of magic is there that can make solid object vanish without a trace?" he asked aloud, talking to himself, thinking he was alone. He wasn't.

"A dark magic, no doubt, and a powerful one to be able to work on the Sacred Stones," his son Ephraim said, striding into the room, half-dressed and deprived of a real night's sleep. His aqua hair was messier than usual, and he wore his sleeping shirt tucked hastily into a pair of pants.

Fado continued to pace. "This is outrageous. I've never heard of such magic. A sacred relic, vanishing without a trace? It's a kings' worst nightmare."

Ephraim sensed his father's worry, and placed a hand on his shoulder as he strode past, halting his endless pacing. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and father and son exchanged a message. "Calm down, father. If you do something drastic in your confusion, then it will only cost the kingdom more. We must do what is best for Renais."

"Tell me then, son. What is best for Renais now that her precious Stone has been stolen?" Fado asked, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, feeling the strength of his son's muscles, and of his faith.

"We must call a Royal Summon. Gather the kings, queens, princes, princesses of Magvel together, and we shall decide what to do then. I am positive that our Stone was not the only one that was taken," he said.

Fado released his son. "What leads you to believe that other Stones have vanished?"

Ephraim turned on his heel and walked over to the window. Gazing out in the predawn sky, filled with fading stars and a few clouds that cast shadows onto the world below. "It would be foolish, don't you think? If I had a magic that could destroy sacred relics instantly, I wouldn't settle for just one."

Fado knew his son was right. He walked over to the doorway, reached up to ring a bell that sent dainty rings echoing throughout the hallway. Within moments, a bed-tussled man with deep red hair and eyes strode into the room. He was dressed as Ephraim was, with a nightshirt tucked into a pair of pants, though unlike the prince of Renais, he wore boots.

"You called for me, Your Majesty?" The red-haired man bowed. Fado nodded, motioning for the man to rise.

"Forgive me, Seth, for waking you at this hour, but I have need of your assistance," Fado began. Ephraim watched their reflections in the window across the room. "I wish to initiate a Royal Summon. We will need messengers sent out to all the surrounding kingdoms, not including the mercantile Carcino-"

Ephraim interrupted, turning to face his father. "Why not Carcino?"

His father had an answer. "Carcino has no Sacred Stone. They have no part in this, and I do not want to include them where it is not necessary."

Ephraim thought for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. "No…include Carcino. It is because they do not have a Sacred Stone that they should be our first suspects. What if, hypothetically, they were jealous of the other nations, and invented a magic to make the Stones disappear into nothing."

Fado looked at his son for a long moment. His eyes were filled with pride. One day, Ephraim would be king, and perhaps a smarter king than he was. "Fine then, son. Seth, include Carcino in the Royal Summon."

Seth nodded, bowing again to the king and his son, before leaving to rouse a few knights to serve as messengers. Fado sighed, hanging his head and rubbing his temple. Ephraim looked at his father in sympathy. Never in his life had he imagined that the Stones would have disappeared. Luckily, both he and his father were reasonably calm men.

Even though they were breaking down on the inside, they had to remain strong for Renais.

* * *

_Blue Star Valley  
__Somewhere in the Northern US  
__Echo Lake Inn, Third Floor  
__Second Door on the Right_

"...urgh..."

A lump of cotton comforters decorated with floral patterns moved slightly on the large bed. Whoever the blankets had ensnared was beginning to stir, poking for a way out of her burrow. Slowly, two legs found their way out of the mass, stretching and shivering in the cold air of the room.

Carefully, a head of tangled red hair peeked out. Green eyes squinted, peering at the digital alarm clock on the near-by nightstand, and glared at the time. She stared.

4:57 a.m.

With a quiet groan, her head fell back onto the pillows. To herself, she wondered why she had ever agreed to her mother's proposition two years ago. There were plenty of other people in the world who could have been hired to serve as the cook for the Echo Lake Inn, but it was extraneous to pay money to hire them when you could simply enlist the help of your magnanimous daughter, who just happened to attend culinary school.

Francesca Amairea shot up into a sitting position when her alarm clock shrilled into action, turning on at exactly five o'clock in the morning. Quickly, her hand flew out and clicked it off. Just because she hated to get out of bed in the morning didn't mean she had to wake anyone else with her insanely loud alarm clock.

She blinked, looking around her room. Convinced that nothing had changed, she untangled her limbs from her comforters and swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed. She shivered. The inn could get drafty in the morning. The wooden floor was colder than the air under her socked feet as she stretched and stumbled over to her wardrobe. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her arm, yawning.

Francesca gazed at herself in the mirror. Two dull green eyes stared back at her amongst the freckles the dominated her face, framed with thick strands of red hair. Sighing, knowing there was no time to dawdle if she wanted to squeeze in a morning job before breakfast, she yanked off the oversized flannel shirt she slept in, and pulled on a dark yellow sports bra. Once matching running shorts were pulled up over her noticeable hips, she pulled her hair up in an elastic scrunchie, and walked quietly out of her room.

"Breakfast today is eggs, bread and bagels, the fruit of the week, microwave bacon, coffee, tea, juice, milk," she said under her breath as she made her way down the stairs and landings to the first floor. She was greeted by the large, lonely room. As if to say "hello", the wind whistled through the crack in the window.

Normally, her parents would have been awake by now. However, neither of her parents, nor her siblings, were here. It was just Francesca, and it would remain just Francesca for most of autumn and winter while the rest of her family vacationed in Europe. Not being a big fan of travel, and shy to new experiences, she had opted to stay here and watch the inn.

Coming into the large kitchen that adjoined directly to the dining room and lobby, she checked the clock on the wall. It was 5:05.

"Perfect. Take jog, get back within the half hour, fix breakfast," she said to herself, so she wouldn't forget. She crouched down to look under the table, and found her sneaker right where she had left them last night. Once she had pulled them on, set the stove to preheat, and turned the dining room lights on, she headed for the backdoor.

The screen door squeaked and banged as it opened and shut, announcing her arrival to the backyard. Francesca paused for a moment to look around, smiling at the dawn sky reflecting on the surface of Echo Lake, namesake to the Inn that watched over it. It wasn't a large lake, but it wasn't small. A field of dewy grass stretched to the shore of the lake, littered with bunches of dandelions that Francesca didn't have the heart to uproot. Trees encircled the lake, cradling it as the mountains cradled the valley. She smiled as she saw a family of ducks come out from the reeds for a morning swim.

Movement among the dawn clouds drew her attention away from the lake. A few stars still shone bright in the sky, hiding from the stretching light of the rising sun. To her surprise, a shooting star zipped across the sky. She squinted, and saw two more stars shoot after the first one. Her brows knitted in confusion as two other stars shot in the opposite direction. Weren't shooting stars supposed to shoot in the same direction?

She shook her head, reminded herself that there was no reason to worry about stars right now, seeing as she was a chef and not as astronomer. Let the star people worry about stars. Let the food people worry about getting breakfast ready on time.

Her jogging trail led her around half of the valley, occasionally running up the side of one of the many mountains, before looping back around up the driveway back to the inn. If she concentrated on the movement of her feet, she could complete it in thirty minutes.

Unfortunately, this particular morning, she could not concentrate on moving her feet. Her mind kept going back to the stars. She kicked herself mentally, inwardly yelling that if shooting stars were dangerous, there would be warning signs everywhere.

"Stop worrying, self. Mental note: Google it later," she shrugged as she jogged, looking up to the sky, where the stars had vanished.

* * *

_Continent of Magvel  
__Grado Keep, Southern Tower_

He clutched the windowsill, cold beads of sweat running down his face and falling onto the cold marble beneath his hand. His soft lilac hair was damp, his clothes soaked in perspiration.

"No…I d-didn't want to…" He gasped for air, "Why….oh, why did you make me?"

A cold laugh bounced off the walls of the circular chamber as a tall, broad, strong figure stepped into the sunlight. His face was distorted with mirth and sick obsessions, his eyes twinkled ominously with a wry humor. Strands of oily dull blue hair fell in ragged curls around his face, onto his shoulders. He laughed at his prince.

"Are you ashamed of your action, oh prince of misery? I wonder how you will ever live with be to live with yourself now. Just think, what would your darling Princess Eirika think of you if she knew it was by your hand that the darkness is freed?" The man taunted. The prince's body jerked as he cried, moaning.

"Oh, Eirika…please, forgive me! I did not want to listen to them, to the demon…but I had no choice. They would kill you…kill you…" He cried. The man laughed again.

"The Stones must be gone. Gone forever from this world. Then, they must disappear looking for them. Lost in another world, they will all die. Magvel, without the next generation of royalty, will crumble, and I shall rule this land while the Demon King moves on to other worlds. Soon, the entire universe will be ours!"

Prince Lyon of Grado cried harder, shaking, before collapsing in a heap at the base of the window. He felt helpless. There was nothing he could do, but pray that there was some way, some person, some creature out there, anywhere, that could stop this. Stop the madman Valter. Stop his master, the Demon King.

Stop him, with his new, terrible magic that he was forced to connect with; forced to wield against he people he loved. His cries echoed off the cold walls of the room.

If nothing was done, then everyone would vanish into nothing.

* * *

End of Prologue

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Yeah, it's a little strange. I hope everyone doesn't think it sounds to weird. Trust me, I it gets better.

Please review, people! I love reviews. I love to meet new people. New people are fun, and interesting. I like people.

Stay safe, everyone.

With Luck and Love,  
_Becca_


	2. River of Tyme

**Echoes on the Lake

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**

Hi, everyone. Ready or not, here comes the first chapter. I'll be doing review responses every few chapters or so. Before I start, thanks to all that reviewed in the first place!

For a warning and a disclaimer, see the prologue, because I'm not repeating myself. I WILL say, however, that there might be some slight changes to the romances involved. There are now a few love _triangles_. Ephraim/Tana/L'Archael, Eirika/Lyon/Seth and Amelia/Franz/Ewan. Plus…some Neimi/Colm and Lute/Artur with a side of weird, freakish one-sided ValterxEirika. O.o

Thanks for the reminder on those couples, Naru. . I would have forgotten.

I guess I should make it clear that, along with owner ship of Francesca and the Amairea family, I also own Tari Wellington, Ciar of the Magic Priory (and Priory itself), and Bekka. The River of Tyme, Winglin, and all pertaining to those are also MINE.>>

Read on if you want to meet some of those characters. Just…not in that order. More like, meet Bekka, then Tari, and then Ciar!

Or…maybe I'll make it Ciar, then Tari…

Or perhaps, I should just get on with the story…

* * *

Chapter One: River of Tyme

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_Continent of Magvel  
__Castle Renais, the Library  
__Third Floor, East Wing_

It did not take long for the Royal Summon to initiate. Messengers were sent out to Frelia, where the aid of the mounted Pegasus Knights helped to quicken the process. Soon, across Magvel, royalty was moving and gathering.

Three days after the disappearance of the Stones, Prince Ephraim sat in the library, staring out the window and twiddling his thumbs. He was edgy, nervous, and on a constant high alert. Whoever or whatever made the Stones vanish could still be prowling around, lurking and waiting for the right moment to strike again.

What would it take next? The legendary Sacred Twin weapons and tomes? Or, perhaps, a real human being?

"Brother!"

Ephraim looked up, an ocean of teal hair falling into his lap. His twin sister Eirika fell to the floor, burying her face his chest and clinging to his shirt. Her eyes were red; she had been crying.

"Eirika, calm down," he said, leaning down to warp his arms around her shaking shoulders. "What is wrong? It is so unlike you to cry like this? Whatever happened to the strong sister I sparred with just four days ago?"

She cried, though she tried to stop. Fear filled her voice. "Four days ago the Sacred Stones were safe. What if it comes back?"

He was patient, rubbing her back. "What if what comes back?"

She looked up at him, long strands of hair falling into her face. Her chin quivered. "What is the dark magic comes back, and it takes someone away? What if it takes something important, like a Sacred Twin weapon? Or…General Seth? What if it takes Father? Or _you_?"

Ephraim reached down, cupping her cheek and stroking her face with his forefinger and thumb, like he used to do when they were younger. He locked her eyes with his, as if to pass him calmness onto her. "Eirika, please. Stop this crying. Everything will be fine. The Royal Summon will gather the greatest minds of the continent together, and I'm sure a plan will be formulated."

Eirika had no time to reply. The door swung open, revealing the finely clad form of their father. Fado strode into the room, his cape billowing grandly behind him. "Collect yourselves, children. The royals are arriving."

Ephraim stood up, pulling his sister up with him. The latter quickly dabbed her eyes on the back of her red gloves, taking deep breathes and composing herself. Ephraim waited for her, before offering her is arm.

"Shall we, sister?"

She smiled shakily. "Let's go greet our friends."

They followed behind their father, walking into the room where the council was held. A large oak table sat in the middle of the room, plush chairs situated around it to seat a total of twelve people at once. Benches along the walls provided extra seating. The torches on the wall and the fire in the fireplace brightened the room, for there were no windows in the council room.

Seth was there when they arrived. He stood up from his seat and bowed. "Your Majesty," he turned to the twins, nodded respectfully to Ephraim, "Prince Ephraim," softly, he added, "…Princess Eirika."

Fado nodded in greeting to him. "Seth, who has arrived?" He walked to the head of the table, looking of his shoulder, waiting for an answer.

"King Hayden has just arrived, and Queen Ismaire is due to arrived any time now," Seth replied. Fado nodded.

Right on que, the doors on the other end of the room swung open, revealing King Hayden of Frelia. His gray hair and retreating hairline made him look older than he was, and the haunted expression on his face did nothing to help. Garbed in shades of purples and gray, he approached Fado and shook his hand.

"Fado, I'm glad to see you. I haven't slept in days. The sooner we take action, the better," he said. Fado clasped his hands reassuringly.

"Don't worry, King Hayden, I assure you we will do all we can," he said, "You remember my children?"

Ephraim stepped forward, greeting the worried Hayden with a firm handshake, smiling. "King Hayden, it's an honor to see you." Hayden smiled back. Eirika curtsied.

"King Hayden, I pray you recover soon," she said. Hayden smiled kindly at her.

"My greetings to you, Ephraim, Eirika."

There was the sound of quick footsteps, and then a shriek echoed off the walls. Heads turned, and Ephraim found himself engulfed in a strangling embrace, a ponytail of dark blue hair tickling his nose.

"Oh, Ephraim! You're all right! I was so worried," the girl said, her voice muffled by Ephraim's shirt, "with the Sacred Stones gone, and I thought that something else had happened to you! I haven't slept a wink, worrying about you! I give thanks for Saint Latona for keeping you safe."

She looked up, and Ephraim looked down into the big blue eyes of Princess Tana of Frelia. She too, had been crying. Ephraim slowly untangled himself, before taking her white-gloved hands in his own.

"Tana, I'm perfectly fine. It would take a lot more than magic to harm me," he told her slowly. Eirika stepped over to her brother's side, placing her hand on Tana's shoulder and smiling.

"I'm so happy you're here, Tana," she said. The latter smiled back, releasing Ephraim and stepping over to hug Eirika.

"I'm glad to be here. It's better than waiting back home, all alone and scared to death. Imagine how awful that would be. At least, in the midst of this tragedy, we can all be here together!" Tana said. The girls smiled and giggled. Ephraim rolled his eyes.

Someone in the doorway cleared his throat. The three children turned to see a man, only a year Ephraim's senior, with his arms crossed and his brows raised. He resembled his father, with light silver-green hair and deep eyes. He walked the length of the room, his black boots clicking against the stone floor. When he was level with them, he glowered at Ephraim for a moment.

"You talk too much, sister," he said, turning his attention to Tana, who rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, Innes," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Ephraim has visibly stiffened, pursing his lips.

Prince Innes of Frelia ignored his younger sister, turning his attention to the other lady in the room. He bowed gracefully, taking Eirika's hand and kissing it. Watching from his place beside King Fado, Seth found himself frowning.

"Princess Eirika, what an honor to see you," Innes said sweetly.

Eirika flushed slightly, and Ephraim glared at Innes. The Frelian prince straightened up, glaring right back at him. Ephraim forced a smile. "Prince Innes. How… nice of you to grace us with your presence."

Innes held his hand out. "I would not dare miss this chance to see my good friends again, Ephraim." He smiled mockingly as Ephraim shook his hand, both gripping harder than need be, as a short contest of strength. Ephraim knew this particular game Innes was playing now. A silent contest was issued between them. A contest to see who the better gentleman was today.

Ephraim knew he would have to step it up a notch, for Innes had already gained the lead by kissing his sister's hand (something he would have to kill him for later). Smiling dashingly, he turned to Tana and took her hands in his again.

"Dearest Tana, my apologies for denying you the proper greeting," he elaborated. "I am flattered that you care for my safety. Please, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, know that my shoulder is always free." He gently kissed her hands through her white gloves, causing Tana to blush and Eirika to narrow her eyes.

"This isn't just another contest, is it?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two princes. Innes blinked innocently, as did Ephraim.

"Why, sister, I'm hurt. Aren't I allowed to provide comfort to a lady in distress?" he asked, sporting a look of mock hurt. Eirika wasn't fazed.

"Do not become confused. You're allowed to do that," she took Tana by the elbow and pulled her away from Ephraim, "but you are not allowed to romance my friend. We are not a part of this game you two play." Tana nodded earnestly in agreement, though she secretly wished that Ephraim would comfort her without needed an excuse to do so.

Ephraim exhaled, shrugging. "We don't mean to involve you, but you are always in the right place at the right time." He grinned. Eirika glared.

Innes opened his mouth to say something, but the voices echoing off the stone distracted him. Fado and Hayden ceased strategic talk and turned their heads to see who was coming.

Stepping through the open doors was a squat, burly, muscular man with wild green hair and a matching beard. His clothes were colored orange, standing out among the soft colors of the royals. The big ax strapped across his back and the lively look in his eyes did nothing to help him blend in.

He cleared his throat, before shouting. "Announcing the arrival of the Divine Emperor Mansel, Ruler of the Theocracy of Rausten and all her glory, loveliness, and all together supreme holiness!"

When the man was finished, he stepped aside and flourished his arms wildly, almost slapping Emperor Mansel as he stepped into the threshold.

Reflexively standing up straighter, Ephraim bowed respectfully, stepping aside to allow Mansel to step through. Eirika, Tana, and Innes copied him, moving out of the path of the holy man. His blond hair was slicked back, crowned with a thin, delicate strand of gold embedded with jewels. Mansel wore many layers of silk robes, all embroidered with holy symbols of the Saint Latona, the holy light that Rausten and many others worship.

"Ah, Fado, Hayden. It is good to see you in this time of tragedy," Mansel greeted, walking slowly across the room to greet his fellow kings. Fado bowed respectfully, while Hayden nodded his head in greeting, tense. Ephraim winced slightly, sensing Innes stiffen beside him. The relationship between Rausten and Frelia was a peaceful, though they often disagreed about everything.

"How nice it is to see you again, Emperor Mansel," Fado said, clasping his hand in the traditional greeting. When Mansel and Hayden faced each other, their lips pursed, and they nodded.

"Pleasure," Hayden said stiffly. Mansel just sniffed, looking around. He smiled slightly when he saw the small group of royal heirs standing off to the side. Tana hid behind her brother, while Innes stood straighter. "I see you have brought your children, Hayden? They are as healthy looking as ever. I too have brought my heir with me."

Mansel turned to look at the green haired man that had announced him. "Dozla, if you please?"

The man Dozla grinned, "Right away, Your Holiness!" He was shouting again. Out of the corner of his eye, Ephraim saw Eirika wince as the volume. Looking back at the man, he noticed that as Dozla spoke this time, he kept glanced down at the back of his hand, examining notes written in ink across his skin to remind him of the absurdly long title he was about to read off.

"Also, announcing the arrival of His Majesty's niece, the Crown Jewel of the Theocracy of Rausten, Dispenser of Justice and Bringer of Righteousness throughout Rausten, Mount Mimir, Darkling Woods, and all surrounding seas and lands to the point where one world ends and another begins! May all misguided souls lucky enough to gaze upon her beautiful figure see the light that guides her hand and become blessed! Oh, lucky listeners, I give you the Princess L'Archael!" he said, flourishing his arms once more.

Stepping grandly into the room, a girl no older than Eirika posed dramatically, smiling as if they were to cheer in honor of her arrival. Only the man Dozla and Mansel had any reaction. Mansel smiled warmly, and Dozla clapped enthusiastically.

Princess L'Archael chose to garb herself in a short dress of white silk lined with gold, with waving sleeves and thigh-high white boots. Her hair was golden-green curls, pinned back in silk cords and twirled into buns at the back of her head. Light, playful green eyes skimmed the room from behind long lashes. Her soft, full lips turn up in a smile when her eyes fixed on the group of royal children.

"Greetings, weary souls!" She curtsied gracefully, her voice loud and yet soft at the same time.

Fado and Hayden both greeted her with respect. When she came over to the royal children, Tana treated her the same way her father did, though she seemed to fear this flamboyant, noisy woman. Eirika smiled at her, curtsied, and said nothing more.

"Why, you must be Prince Ephraim! It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, examining him. He bowed stiffly to her.

"I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I've heard so much about you," he lied. L'Archael seemed to exude happiness at this comment. She turned excitedly to the man Dozla, who never seemed to be far from her, hovering with his hand near his colossal ax.

"Ooh, did you hear that, Dozla! The publicity tactics we planned are working splendidly! People all the way in Renais had heard of my holy plight!" She squealed. Innes made a gagging gesture behind her back. If Innes wasn't Ephraim rival in just about everything, Ephraim would have laughed.

To the aforementioned Frelian prince's horror, L'Archael turned her attention to him, apparently done with Ephraim for now. "You must be the famous Prince Innes. I heard tales of your performance with the bow. You absolutely must show me sometimes, after this Sacred Stones mishap is solved!"

Innes bowed stiffly, glaring at her. "The Stones will not be found easily. They have disappeared into thin air, princess. Do you expect us to simply peek around a corner and find them? If you do, then you are a fool," he growled. The holy woman returned his glare.

"I do not appreciate it when men take that tone with me! Where have your manners gone? Do you not know you are speaking to a woman of the church? I am a lady, and I deserve respect. But do not worry yourself. I shall forgive you this time, but I won't be so forgiving if it happened again. As for the disappearance of the Stones, a terrible tragedy! What horrible darkness could have done such a thing? Never fear! I, L'Archael, shall vanquish it!" She smiled majestically.

Mansel called to his niece from across the room. "Dearest L'Archael, would you please join me by the fireside? It is drafty, and I do not wish you to fall ill." The Princess smiled again at the royal children, before striding over to meet her uncle, flourishing another curtsy to Fado and Hayden. Dozla followed close behind, energy thrown into every step.

"That woman has ego issues," Tana muttered loud enough for the other children to hear. She seemed relieved that the woman was gone, stepping protectively closer to Ephraim. He laughed.

"Remind you of anyone else we know? A certain arrogant prince?" he joked, poking fun at his rival. Eirika glared at him, elbowing him in the ribs to silence him. It did not work; for he went on to tease her about the unladylike-ness of her gesture. He got as far as to say that Eirika should simply garb herself as a boy and make it easier for the eyes before his twin finally smacked him over the head.

"One more snide comment and I swear I'll throttle you," she warned. Tana giggled and even Innes hid a smile behind his hand. Ephraim ducked out of her reach, grinning.

"I'm just teasing, sister. Though I must say, it would be very unladylike to swear," he said solemnly. Eirika glared at him and sighed in frustration, chiding him by saying that if he did not want her to swear and fight; he should have never taught her the art of swordplay. Her hand flew to her rapier, but before Ephraim could meet the wrath of his twin, the sound of more arrivals interrupted.

A young knight in reddish armor stepped into the room; reaching up to brush loose, light blonde bangs out of his bright green eyes before speaking. The knight met Eirika's eye, and he winked at her. She smiled. His expression was anything but serious as he grinned, straightened up, and spoke in an easy-going tone.

"I give you Queen Ismaire of the White Dunes of Jehanna," he introduced, stepping aside to reveal the dazzlingly beautiful woman that was the Queen. Her long, ruby red hair fell down her back, decorated with gems and a headdress of gold. Her robes fit her form perfectly, every last stitch sewn to show the best of her features. She moved gracefully into the room, the curved sword at her side a warning to anyone who dared to anger her.

Ismaire was flanked by two men. One was dressed as a mercenary, clothed in leather with a broad sword strapped to his back. His exposed muscles stiffened as he flexed his hands, looking warily around to room for potential danger to his Queen. The second wore the desert garbs of a swordmaster. He was tall, with dark hair and darker circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Walking leisurely in at the end of the procession was a young man dressed in black, white, and gold. He wore his hair long, and it was ruby red like the queen's. His face was partly hidden under a black hat. He opened his palm to reveal a single golden coin. Balancing it on his forefinger and thumb, he flipped it, catching it again when it came down. The outcome clearly dampened his spirit, for he slumped slightly, sighing.

"Tails again. Not a good day for me," he mumbled, barely loud enough for Ephraim to catch.

Ephraim lost interest in the arrival of royalty. He watched as Ismaire was greeted by the Kings, but he didn't pay attention. His mind was wandering. However many times he tried to pull his train of thought back onto course, he couldn't hold onto his mind. It slipped further away, caught in the embrace of a warm light. Sparkling dots flecked his vision.

_Eternal space soared around him. The darkness of the universe went on forever. Stars, planets, nebulas, comets and other wonders of space stretched out endlessly. He floated in a daze, unaware of anything but the silence that pressed around him. He looked around, and saw a wonder unlike any other._

_A vast river of every color imaginable, even those he did not know, wound through space below him. The essence was not water, yet it was a liquid. It was not solid, yet he felt as though he could touch it. It was transparent, yet clear. It was everything at once but at the same time it was nothing at all. _

_The river flowed from light-years away, somewhere behind him, and ran onward into the dark void of space he could not see. All around, small streams, littler rivers, and other tributaries emptied into the big river. They carried with them small glowing bulbs of light that bobbed up and down on the river like toy boats. _

_Ephraim fell down slowly, coming closer. He reached out his hand, surprised to find that he no longer wore his armor or his shirt. If he wore anything at all, he did not know, nor did he care. The river was inches away from his fingers. He heard a whispering in his ear, cutting softly through the silence._

"_Ephraim…come into my river. My river will take thee through Tyme to me. Dost thou wish to see me, prince? Thou will soon. Eventually, thou will be here with me, with the other Preferred. Together…in harmony…sleeping…forever…"_

_Yes, he thought, I will come…peace…eternally…_

"_Ephraim…"_

_He dipped his finger into the river. His arm was almost fully submerged in the ethereal essence when he felt a jerk in the small of his back, like a fishing line pulling him in. _

"_Ephraim…" The voices grew distant, and then suddenly louder._

"Ephraim!"

He shook his head, looking around. Eirika looked at him with concern in her eyes. He clutched his arm, and her brow furrowed. Tana and Innes were both giving him strange looks. He looked over at the kings and queen to see if they had noticed. The adults were engaged in deep conversation, but the ruby-haired youth that had arrived with Ismaire was looking at him.

The males locked eyes. The ruby-haired youth slowly raised his eyebrows, a look of mirth flashing across his face. Ephraim could only imagine what he was thinking. Oh, look, a foolish dandy having hallucinations.

He felt another pair of eyes burn on his skin. It was the Princess of Rausten. She smiled softly, batting her eyelashes and flushing. Ephraim's heart sunk slowly. Had he been looking at _her_ when the strange vision has struck him? He could only imagine with horrification what that must have looked like. Him, standing there with a dumb, dazed look on his face, staring pensively at the naïve princess who was most likely under the impression that he had been marveling _her_ beauty.

Ephraim concluded that the only reason he had not 'vanished' into nothing yet was because Saint Latona wished him to suffer long and hard in the hands of this self-centered holy woman. Maybe this 'vanishing' was too good for him.

"Are you all right, Brother? You paled…and then you did respond," Eirika said. He snapped once again out of his thoughts and put all his attention into reassuring his sister and Tana that he was fine.

"The meeting of the Royal Summon will now begin," Hayden announcing. Ephraim's own brow furrowed.

"King Hayden, why are we starting now? The emissaries from Grado and Carcino have not arrived yet. Should we not wait for Emperor Vigarde or Lord Kimlt? Isn't the point of a Royal Summon for the leaders of the nations to make decisions together?" he asked.

Fado nodded, "Under a normal circumstance, my son, we would wait until everyone was gathered. However, the situation we face now is dire. We cannot afford to waste any more time waiting for emissaries and rulers that may not arrive for another day. We do not have another day to spare."

"But, Father-" Ephraim began.

"Prince Lyon-" Eirika protested. Fado silenced them both with an uncompromising look.

"Children, you will take you seats along the wall, and you will say no more," he commanded.

The seats of the table filled. Fado sat at the head, with Seth on his right. Hayden sat on his left, across from Seth and diagonally from Mansel. Dozla stood protectively against the wall near L'Archael. Ismaire sat with on seat between herself and Hayden, with her two guards against the wall near-by. The blonde-haired knight that had announced Ismaire went back outside, where the faint sounds whispered chatter between him and the other guard could be heard.

Sitting down on the hard wooden benches, holding his sister's hand in his lap, Ephraim settled his mind to listen to the debate that was about to unfold. He looked down the row of princesses and princes. Like him, Innes was listening intently, ignoring the fretful Tana that sat by his side. Tana seemed grateful that she was safely tucked away between her brother and the ruby-haired youth, far away from the sharp gaze of the Rausten princess. The latter kept shooting Ephraim playful, flirtatious looks.

I wonder, he thought, if anyone else saw the river, or even heard the voice? Am I really too good for this 'vanishing', or is the dark magic eating away my sanity?

* * *

_Kingdom of Grado  
__Lyon's Prison_

He was losing his mind.

Hours and day, locked away in the same room while his magic single-handedly ripped the world asunder. The images of his friends, or his family, of his love, torn into nothing filled his mind and haunted his vision. Everywhere he turned, he saw someone dying. He could see the calamity that was dawning on the horizon as clearly as if he was happening right now.

He would pace back and forth until he tripped on his tattered robes and found himself too exhausted to stand back up. As he would lie on the floor, wishing he could sleep forever, he couldn't. He would lie awake, with pure adrenaline charging through him. He would get up, slam into the walls, pound the door, and scream, but nothing would change.

Sometimes, he would consider taking that final leap of the window. He could stand on the stone sill, and look down to the stone courtyard far below, but he could not jump. He was scared to jump. The thought of having his life end terrified him. That was why he had first pursued the study of the Sacred Stone, right? To find a way to help people, and to ultimately find a path to immortality.

My foolish fantasy, he sobbed inwardly, his body shaking, was to find a way for Eirika and I to live together without ever worrying about leaving each other.

But he was stuck here, while Valter obeyed the every commanded of the evil deity that he himself had thoughtlessly awakened. Valter and his council of dark generals that he despotically ruled over had already taken over the capital. Spreading their poison under the dead of the night, they were slowly taking control and gathering information.

Soon, they would hold all the cards, and they would spring their attack. Ephraim would surely fight, but he would die against the darkness. And…his poor Eirika…

"Are you still crying over your lost princess?" asked a raspy voice from behind him. Lyon slowly clawed his way up the wall, struggling into a standing position. In the doorway was the gruesome face of the acclaimed 'holy man', Riev.

The old man hobbled into the room, his back hunched. The sunlight from the window etched shadows on his wrinkled, blemished face. Lyon got chills in his stomach whenever he looked at the man.

"Where…what…what has happened?" Lyon asked breathlessly. Riev chuckled.

"A Royal Summon was initiated. The fools gathering at Castle Renais are waiting for a prince and an emperor that will never come. They wait for Carcino, but Carcino will not come. The mercantile is answering to us now. Soon, the whole world will be under the control of the Dark Generals and the venerated Demon King."

Lyon said nothing. Riev kept taking.

"This is all your doing, foolish prince. If you had not pursued your studies of the magic of the Sacred Stone, the Demon King would have never awakened. Now, the radiant energies of the Grado Stone has transformed into malevolent, raw power," Riev rasped.

Lyon did not like the look in the bishop's eyes. The latter laughed maliciously.

"Oh, prince, would you like to see what I have been experimenting with using this raw power?" He asked. Lyon did not feel that he had much of a choice.

A shadow fell over the doorway. Valter stood there. He held in his hand a strange purple sack with magic runes stitched all over the fabric. The sack was rather large, still expect for the occasional movement here and there. Lyon grew horrified. There was something _alive_ inside there.

Valter laughed. "Yes, Riev and those royal mages of yours that we managed to sway to our side have been enjoying themselves with his little experiment. He wished to test the mutational abilities of the Dark Stone's radiation. Look now, and see what he had created."

He tossed the bag onto the floor in the middle of the room. Whatever was in there whimpered in pain. Lyon hesitantly stepped closer, scared to death of what monstrosity he would find.

Seeking sunlight, the small lump moved slowly towards the opening. Tired of waiting, Valet stooped down and yanked the bag away from the thing inside, revealing that Riev had created.

Lyon gasped. It was, or it used to be, a human child. The child looked deformed. All over, the child was growing purple fur. Its ears were too big for its head, and its nose was more like a snout. The child's bones seemed to be too small for its skin, for its skin bagged around it like a sweater one size too big.

The child was caught, painfully, somewhere between human and animal. Lyon watched in horror as he looked at the small abomination. Blonde hair was clumped with blood, ragged and short with patched ripped out. Little eyes were screwed shut in throbbing pain.

"Wha…Ah! What have you done!" He cried out. The child-animal gave a choked blubber, unable to form coherent words. It tied to use its legs and deformed claw-fingers to crawl along the floor, but did not go anywhere. Lyon's attention was drawn to the child's behind, where a small lump protruded from the tailbone. A tail, he supposed.

"We have done nothing. This was all the Dark Stone's doing. We placed this sniveling thief inside a bag protected with filtering runes to prevent too much of the energy from tearing her soul before we got a chance to study her reaction to the energy. At first, it was just a small tuft of fur here, a malformed finger there. Then, one day, her very bone structure began to shift and alter. She is growing smaller inside her skin, turning into a grotesque animal."

Lyon was silent, afraid that he would reject his meager breakfast is he said anything. He only watched the child twitch and whimper in the sunlight. Riev watched him closely, sneering.

"Why, my prince, don't you recognize this child? She was once a little girl who lived in Serafew. Around two years ago, you saved her from a fire and used the magic you had studied to heal her wounds and restore her. Tell me, prince, can you precious magic heal her now?"

Valter and Riev laughed, faces filled with mirth and enjoyment. Slowly, Riev reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew a small dark fragment of onyx-like stone incased in a glass vial. He stepped closer to the whimpering anthrochild, holding the vial at arms length toward her. The child shrieked in pain.

"S-Stop it!" Lyon screamed. He stepped forward to rush to the anthrochild's side, only to be stopped by Valter.

"Do no interfere, Prince Lyon. You must let Riev finish his experiment. Once the child is exposed to an actual shard of the Dark Stone, the transformation will be complete," he hissed. Lyon went pale. The room grew dark, though the sun was out. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the screams of pain he heard. In a flash of dark light, it began, and then it was over.

When Valter stepped aside, Lyon ran forward and collapsed on the floor beside the anthrochild that pulsed a faint, dark energy. She was completely changed. Her arms and legs were slim, her paws still with fingers and toes ending in points like claws. Her whole body was morphed, covered in violet-purple fur. Swirls of green, spots of red, flecks of gold and orange, and strips of yellow decorated her fur. The stumped tail had blossomed out and split into three separate fox tails, two gold tails and one red. Her face had changed completely, complete with a fox's nose, ears, and whiskers. She was now…a child-fox with human-like eyes.

"No…what have you done to her? She was happy! Her mother loved her…" Lyon cried, kneeled on his knees and hovering over the poor anthromorph. He thought back to the day he had healed her. He remembered her name. "Little Bekka…a few years ago, I held you in my arms and I cured all your ailments. Now, why can I not cure you again?"

The malicious laughter of Valter and Riev pounded inside his head. Cold sweat poured down his face as his eyes stared blankly into space before him. Visions flashed before him, showing the horrors that could be done with the power of the Dark Stone. He saw little Bekka, morphed and in great pain…He saw the world overcome by darkness, and the only sound was screams of pain. He saw Eirika, screaming, while her flesh ripped and her bones were crushed…

He did not realize that the screams he was hearing were his own screams. His collapsed, screaming, withering, every shred of sanity slipping away. He clawed his face, he ripped his hair. His whole body convulsed. In the midst of his tantrum, he heard Valter.

"He has finally lost his mind. He is ready," the wyvern knight said.

Lyon felt himself being yanked to his feet, dragged out of the room. He heard, in the back of his mind, yips and yelps and curses. But he did not look back. He did not see at all. All he saw was the horror he had brought unto the world. He screwed his eyes shut, but he could not block out the empty, pain-filled face of Bekka.

When they threw his at the base of the altar, he opened his eyes and saw through the haze the black omen that sat perched atop the marble altar. The Dark Stone, filled with swirling mist and dark spirits, glared down upon him. He cried, hot tears pouring down his face.

_Hush, now, miserable prince…I will make the pain go away. I am the essence of the dark, the adversary of antiquity. The world will be mine. You will help me, and your dreams will come true…_

The voice was cool. Lyon stopped screaming, though his hands still gripped his hair and he still cried.

"Dreams…Eirika?" he asked feebly, like a pitiful child asking for a long-desired present, "May…Can I have Eirika?"

_Eirika will be yours. You will together forever. Accept me now, and everything will be fine._

Lyon slowly released his hair, and his tears ceased. Slowly, he nodded, his mind numb. "I accept you…"

There was little pain. He felt an overwhelming darkness swell inside him, then a cold swooshing feeling as something snuck and settled into his mind. In the back of his mind, he felt an icy presence. Then, he fell into darkness and everything was at peace.

"…mine…forever…"

This is the last word he ever said as Lyon, the Imperial Prince…

"Eirika."

* * *

_Kingdom Renais  
__Castle Renais  
__Ground Floor, South Wing  
__The Council Room_

After hours of debating, Ephraim was beginning to grow tired of the arguing. His bottom was sore from sitting still so long, and he wished he could excuse himself and go drill himself on lance strikes.

King Fado and King Hayden seemed to think that Carcino has something to do with it, and suggested that they send representatives to the mercantile to question Lord Kmilt. Seth agreed with his king, occasionally throwing in a suggestion of his own. Emperor Mansel disagreed, and had even gone so far as to suggest that this was all a cruel trick of Frelian intelligence, claiming that King Hayden was simply jealous of his divine status.

"Now, see here, Mansel, that is absurd! We all know that our Stones vanished within moments of each other. How could a Frelian spy move from one place to another that quickly?" Hayden protested. In his seat, Innes stiffened and glared. Mansel sniffed.

"Who is to say that you did not have more than one spy!" he said. Fado, sick of this dispute, slammed his fist down on the table, causing the wine glasses to tremble and the red liquid inside to swish around.

"Enough of this! We must not waste our time with petty accusations. If we are to find our Stones, we must work together, not fight apart," he said. Ephraim silently agreed with his father.

For the first time in a while, Queen Ismaire looked up from her wine glass and spoke. "There is only one person in this world that could tell you where the Sacred Stones have gone."

Silence fell over the table. The three men all looked at the beautiful queen. She met their gaze and held it. Finally, all three men sighed simultaneously.

"Who is it, Queen Ismaire?" Seth asked. Ismaire smiled, folding her hands in her lap. She nodded towards the ruby-haired youth, motioning for him to rise. He did, shifting uncomfortably.

"My son, Prince Joshua, knows this person. I'm sure that if you ask nicely, he will tell you," Ismaire said, nodding her head in the direction of her son. Ephraim saw the young prince fiddling with his coin behind his back.

"What can you tell us, Prince Joshua?" Fado asked kindly. Joshua seemed to wince at the title he was given, but resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he stepped forward a bit.

"There was once a man who served as a mage of sorts in the Court of Jehanna Hall. He called himself Ciar, and he was a brilliant magician. He could predict anything. The weather tomorrow, when someone would get sick, or even the gender of a baby before the babe was born. He left, a few years ago, on what he called a 'personal mission'. He never returned, but he sends me letter often. We were good friend. If anyone knows where the Stones are, I'll bet you anything its Ciar," Joshua said.

Fado's brow furrowed. "So this Ciar you speak of….He could tell us of the location of the Stones?"

Joshua nodded. "Without a doubt."

Hayden seemed relieved, and even the silent and serious Seth smiled. "Amazing! A man that can predict the future. Were can we find him?"

The prince frowned. He shifted his weight to the opposite foot. "Well, I haven't heard from him in a while…" Ismaire narrowed her eyes.

"Dearest son, please tell us where Ciar is," she commanded.

"Yes, stop spinning circles, boy," Mansel said. Everyone in the room focused on Joshua. Finally, he sighed.

"He is in the mountains of Carcino, on the outskirts of some village called Caer Pelyn. He says that when the time comes for me to find him, then I will know how to get there," he mumbled. Ismaire nodded, and he sat back down.

"Our only option now is to find this Ciar. If he can provide us with the location of the Stones, then we could hunt them down and restore them. My only fear is that Carcino has found him. We must make haste," Fado said.

The others agreed. Ephraim sighed with relief, pleased with the smile free of worry that graced his darling sister's face. He had promised her a decision would be reached, and now there was a plan, however dangerous this was becoming. A single plan to find a man no one but those from Jehanna had heard of before, and seek help in this dire time.

Still, he could not help but wonder why Grado and Carcino had never shown up. Was Carcino truly against them? Was something amiss in Grado? If this Ciar was located in Carcino, and if the mercantile was truly their enemy, then they would have to work fast.

Fado was already deep into planning the next step. He talked excitedly with Hayden and Mansel. "If we gather supplies and join our strongest warriors, then we can march to Carcino before the months end!"

Ephraim stood up. "Let me go, father. I am ready now. With Forde and Kyle, I could leave today." All eyes turned to him.

Fado shook his head. "Ephraim, this is a dangerous mission. Who knows if this Ciar man is hostile or not? What if he has joined with Carcino? What if he predicts your coming as is ready to stab a knife through your heart as soon as to step foot into his threshold?"

"Father, I am ready to face anything. What good will it do me to sit here when I know there is something I could do? If you allow me to go, I would get there quicker. Forde and Kyle would fight along side my and protect me if something were to happen," Ephraim argued.

Fado sighed. "Is…there no way to convince you to stay here?" He already knew the answer. Ephraim shook his head. Beside him, Eirika jumped to her feet.

"If you are allowing him to go, then I wish to go too! You cannot expect me to stay here while my brother rides off into some knightly romance of heroism," she insisted. Ephraim shot a glance at her.

"Eirika, this is not a knightly adventure. This is a real danger, and you are not strong enough. I cannot risk your safety. Please, stay here and wait for my return with father," he said. He locked eyes with his sister, and he saw to some point of dismay that she had been set on going since he opening his mouth.

"Listen to your brother, daughter," Fado said, though he too knew that his daughter would not be held to a single place while her brother was elsewhere in possible danger. Ever since they could walk, Ephraim had always wandered off in search of something exciting. While it drove the nursemaid mad to have to chase him across the palace every day, it did not help the situation when Eirika would run right after her brother, toddling along and crying when anyone tried to stop her.

"Father…you know I will not remain here and do nothing when I have the power to do something," Eirika said softly. Fado nodded slowly. He did know.

"Yes…I know. Fine. Take your rapier and go with your brother. But be warned, Eirika. If you are a hindrance to your brother, then I give him the right to send you back here to the Castle. You may fight, but listen to Ephraim. He is the wiser of the two of you when it comes to these things," Fado said, his tone nurturing. Innes stepped forward. He was not about to be left out of the action.

"I too will go to provide assistance. As I'm sure you all know, I am no idiot with a bow in my hands. Together, Ephraim and I will be sure to bring back the Stones," Innes said, not giving his father a chance to argue against him.

Ephraim opened his mouth to pick up where Innes left off, but was silenced by Princess L'Archael. She stepped grandly into the circle of children, flashing a dazzling smile and planted her hands on her hips.

"On the contrary, I don't think we will return until we have all five missing Stones safely in our embrace! Why, with my brilliant assistance, we should be back before my next tea club meeting!" She said cheerfully. Ephraim raised his eyebrows at her, and she winked at him.

"What? With your assistance? Why, you're not coming!" Innes protested. L'Archael grew offended, glared shrewdly at him. Her eyes were filled a fury that put even Ephraim off-ease.

"Prince Innes, I believe I have already warned you about taking that tone with me! I also warned you that I would not be so forgiving," She stepped closer to him, jabbing her finger at his chest with each word. Ephraim could have laughed at the look on Innes's face. L'Archael continued to poke at his chest as she spoke, her voice growing to unladylike levels. "Now, listen here, Frelian prince! I am a beautiful and talented woman of the church, and I am coming with you no matter what you say! You cannot deny that you will need my assistance! So, since we will so be traveling together, I suggest you learn some manners!"

Innes looked astounded that someone had actually said something like that to him, but he did not talk back to her, he simply cleared his throat and stepped away. "My apologies…Princess L'Archael. I was out of my place to speak to you so bluntly. Please accept my humble apology."

L'Archael seemed much happier after that, though Fado and Hayden exchanged looks of uneasy. Mansel, however, seemed most pleased. "Of course you may go, my dear. It would be a fabulous life experience for you, and your greatness would go down in history as an angel of light!"

Fado looked around at the faces of his fellow royals. "So it will be my children, Prince Innes, Princess L'Archael, and a selected few of the Renais Knights? With the addition of any guards or other warriors that either of you want to send with your children, that makes a fine group of emissaries."

Talk of preparations and general excitement filled the room. Tana sulked away from everyone else, devising a plan of her own. Innes and L'Archael spoke of other guards they wished to bring, while Prince Joshua flipped a coin in the corner. In the midst of the conversation, no one noticed the dark-robed swordsman that had arrived with Queen Ismaire slip out of the room.

* * *

_Kingdom of Grado  
__Throne Room_

Prince Lyon sat on the throne, though everyone knew that it was no longer Prince Lyon. His lilac eyes were dark with a drugged look. His face was decorated with strange purple markings. He sat at a hunched slouch, grinning and wheezing.

"Tiger Eye, Caellach," he barked. "Report!"

A middle-aged man with slick red hair stepped forward. He wore a surly look on his face, like a drunken man who had nothing to lose. Dressed in faded black and carrying a small ax strapped to his waist, he grinned lopsidedly.

"Honored Demon King, our spy from Jehanna is overseeing the Royal Summon, and he should report any day now," Caellach said. The Demon King nodded, turning his attention to the next in his line of Generals.

"Riev, the Blood Beryl. I expect your experiment was successful?" he asked with sick amusement in his voice. Riev, however, did not look pleased.

"Demon King…my experiment was indeed successful. The specimen made from the thief-brat we found trying to steal food from our reservoir is a most interesting one. I have concluded that the magic of the Dark Stone must transform the exposed into some sort of 'inner spirit'. I will…try to do more research on this topic," Riev said, leaning on his staff for support.

The Demon King frowned. "What do you mean 'try'? You will do more research!"

Riev's face fell slightly, though he tried not to show it. Beside him, General Valter snickered. "Yes, Blood Beryl, aren't you going to tell our consecrated Demon King that you allowed your experiment to escape you?"

The air chilled, and the flames in the chandelier that lit the chamber turned black. The Demon King rose. "What do you mean, General Valter? The experiment escaped?"

Valter looked amused as he spoke. "As I was delivering your host to you in his maddened state, Riev was collecting his experiment. Apparently, my liege, the little anthrochild escaped out the window."

Caellach, though he did not know much about the anthrochild Bekka, he knew enough. "The brat grew wings?"

Riev fumbled for control of the conversation. "Her tails glowed and she sprouted wings like a butterfly. Before I could stop her, she was out the window. I sent some soldiers to find her, and they have not returned yet…"

The Demon King glared ominously down at the bishop. "Pray for your sake they return with the anthrochild in their hands. If what you have discovered so far in relation to the mutating, the anthromorph should still posses the power of speech. If she were to tell of our doings, then that would be an impediment to our plans."

Riev bowed deeply. "Y-Yes, my King."

Sitting back down on his throne, the Demon King turned his attention to Valter. "I must praise you, Valter, for bringing my host to me. He is a sufficient-!"

The sound of clanking footfalls drew four pairs of eyes to the western entrance of the throne room. A soldier garbed in the deep purple of Grado came stumbling in, bowing hastily. He held in his hand a piece of rolled up parchment.

"Forgive my disturbance, Imperial Prince, but a swiftbeak has just arrived from Castle Renais. It carries a letter for General Valter," he said. Valter did not frown, but instead motioned for the solder to give him the letter. Once the soldier was gone, he opened it and skimmed it quickly.

His face visibly fell, when he looked up, he was stricken. "I have…some bad new to report."

The Demon King snapped, "Then do not stand there like an idiot. Report what you have learned!"

Valter nodded. "Carlyle has just sent his report from Castle Renais. Apparently, a decision was reached to seek the help of Ciar, one of the Members of the legendary Priory. The prince from Jehanna says that Ciar will be able to tell them the location of the Stones."

If the Demon King was angry at Riev, he was infuriated with this news. He thundered, "This is unacceptable! If they were to find out that the Stones are no longer here on Magvel, then our plan would be ruined. They were supposed to disappear looking for the Stones on _this_ continent, so we could pick them off under the darkness with our assassins. Damned Ciar will surely open the River for them! How can we kill them if they are not even _here_?"

No one in the room dared to speak. Misty vapor appeared around the Demon King, and sparks cracked in the arm in response to his anger. Finally, after a moment of thought, Valter dared to speak.

"If I may suggest something, respected King? What if I were to take my Riders and reach the home of this Ciar before they did? I could force him to let my pass though the River to wherever the Stones landed, and destroy them myself before the royal brats even have a chance," he said.

The Demon King considered this. He knew where Ciar was hiding, for he was constantly watched his old rival for the years he had been imprisoned. Ciar had the power to open the mystical River of Tyme, and would also know how to use the River to see into the future. There was no surprising a tyme-caster, after all. Yet, if it meant that the Stones would be destroyed, then he would have to risk it.

"Very well, Valter. Leave now and make haste. If you return and the Stones are still intact, I will personally rip your soul apart. I did not hesitant to kill the lovesick General Selena Fluorspar, and she was much better looking that you," he hissed.

Caellach winced. He had taken a personal liking to the beautiful General Selena, and was rather sad when she had been executed for treason. When their plan had begun to publicly surface within the castle walls, and Emperor Vigarde had died a year back, General Selena had not been quiet and surrendering when she discovered that a new legion of Dark Generals was taking despotic command of the castle. Sadly, she was executed.

At least she's with that idiotic Emperor she always loved, he thought to himself, and turned his attention to other things.

"Caellach, I want to you hunt down the traitorous Generals Duessel Obsidian and Glen Sunstone. They fled under cover of night after Fluorspar was killed. Find them before they warn our young heroes. Riev, your experiment is you main priority. Find her, bring her back…and let me speak to her," The Demon King commanded.

And so spoke the voice of evil.

* * *

_Blue Star Valley  
__Echo Lake Inn  
__Wednesday, August 11th, 2005_

The autumn wind blew across the valley, bringing with it the faint scent of the ocean and the ominous feeling of the approaching cold season. Unfortunately, everyone that lived in the valley was doomed to wake up to the morning chill. As the sun climbed into the sky, casting shadows across the browning grass, leaves slowly turned bright colors and prepared to fall.

Stuffing her feet into wool socks and pulling an olive sweater over her head for warmth, Francesca came down stairs. The lights in the kitchen were already on, as was the lights in the dining room. She leaned against the door frame and gazed upon the figure of the only company she could expect for the winter until her family returned next spring.

"You're up early, Tari. Did you get sick again?" she asked, addressing the young woman sitting at the small table. Hitching her brother's old plaid sleeping pants up to keep them from falling down, Francesca came over to the double stove and began to fish around the cabinets for boxes of oatmeal.

Tari Wellington was eighteen-years-old, two years older than Francesca. For the past seven months, she had been living in the Inn, earning her keep by serving as a maid and maintenance lady of sorts. Lately it had become harder and harder for her to do the maintenance part. It wasn't easy to much of anything when you were pregnant, after all.

"I hate getting sick. It's awful. I don't know how I'm going to last two more months," Tari said, taking a long drink of the coffee she had fixed herself. Francesca looked over at her, and for a moment, both girls gazed at the big, round lump of pale flesh that peeked out from under the hem of Tari's maternity sleeping shirt.

"I don't think coffee is doctor recommended to help with morning sickness. How about a glass of ginger ale instead," Francesca finally said, phrasing it as more of a command that a question. She filled an iron pot with water and set it to boil before throwing open the door of the silver refrigerator in search of the bottle of ginger ale she knew was in here somewhere.

Tari sniffed slightly, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve, nodding. "That could help, I suppose. I guess I'd better get used to other drinks besides coffee. I can't be giving my kid coffee whenever he or she gets sick. That wouldn't be very motherly."

Successful in her search, Francesca pulled the two liter bottle of ginger ale out from among the plastic containers and plastic wrap that dominated the refrigerator. After pouring two glasses, she came over to sit down across from Tari. Sliding one cup across the table, she took a sip out of her own cup.

"You're going to be a great mother, Tari. You're the strongest person I know. You're also the only one I know who can, in the midst on a prom night emergency, repair a broken showerhead using only rubber bands and duct tape," Francesca said, grinning.

Tari grinned back, but went back to frowning. "Now that I've put on this extra weight, I can't even change a light bulb." She traced the rim of her cup with her finger before taking another sip.

"You're still going to be a great mother," Francesca said encouragingly. Tari shook her head, her short blonde hair swishing against her ears and glowing under the ceiling light.

"Fran, I'm a bar dancer/karaoke junkie from L.A. who's now the fat maintenance lady at a hotel in the middle of nowhere. I'm sure I'll be a great single mother," she said sarcastically. Seeing the look on Francesca's face, she quickly apologized. "No offense, about the hotel thing."

Francesca reached across the table and took Tari's hands into her own. "You are not just some bar junkie. You're Tarielle Amanda Wellington. You were born in Manhattan, raised in Brooklyn, and spent three years in the rough streets of Hollywood and Los Angles. You can do _anything_." She squeezed her hands reassuringly.

Tari smiled. "You put too much faith in people, Fran. _Oprah_ can do anything. The best I can do it try."

Francesca smiled, releasing her hands and muffling a yawn in her elbow. She stood up, clearing away Tari's abandon coffee mug, and turning her attention back to the boiling water. "You need to be more optimistic. Remember, the glass can be half empty, or half full. Just keep close in mind that little thing we've been working on: optimism. So, do you want plain oatmeal or…"

"Apple cinnamon, please," Tari finished. Francesca nodded, pulling the correct flavor from the cabinet. Reaching over, she turned on the red battery-operated radio that sat on a small shelf next to the spice rack. Rascal Flatts, "Feels Like Today" began to play, turning on in the middle of the second verse. Out of the corner of her eye, Francesca saw Tari flinch. Tari disliked country music.

"Teenybopper," Francesca teased.

"Country mouse!" Tari shot back defensively. Standing up, the accused rock-and-pop addict walked out of the room as quickly as one could when one was pregnant, claiming that she wished to freshen up before eating.

"Even if you can't change a light bulb, and you at least think about fixing the heater after we eat?" Francesca asked as Tari hobbled across the kitchen floor. The latter paused in the doorway, looking back with a thoughful look.

"That, I might consider doing," she shrugged, before turning to make her assent up the stairs.

Grinning, Francesca brushed a strand of hair from her face and grabbed the box apple cinnamon oatmeal and poured the mixture into the boiling water. While she fished around in the fridge for a gallon of milk, she sang along with the radio.

_It feels like today  
__I'm know  
__It feels like today  
__I sure  
__It's the one thing that's missing  
__The one thing I'm wishing  
__Well, I say quit guessing, and hey  
__It feels like today…_

She didn't really know all the words, but she sang any way. Tari had always insisted that she had a great voice, but Francesca didn't think so. Her voice was just as good as anyone else's, yet on karaoke night at the Bluecollar, she was always up there singing something stupid.

"I guess that's life. Doing stupid things and finding a way to laugh about it. When you have an entire autumn and winter to spend doing nothing, I guess all you can do is stupid stuff."

But one day soon, something would happen and there would be no laughing. There would only be tears.

_Continent of Magvel  
__Village of Caer Pelyn  
__In the Mountains of Carcino at Dusk  
__House of a Tyme-Caster_

There was silence around the table. Three men all stared down at their cups of dark tea, respectably quiet in honor of the fourth and fifth friends that should have been sitting with them.

One was growing older in his years, with aging gray hair that showed signs of once being purple. He looked tired and stricken with grief and worry. He held his tea cup and stared down inside it, wondering how things could have ended up this way.

Another was a younger man, his face partially hidden by the hood of his black robes. Strands of violet-lilac hair fell out to frame his fame and his matching eyes that gazed blankly at the cup of liquid before him.

The final was a younger man, no older than twenty-five. His hair was a pale-silver, tied back in a long ponytail. Streaks and traces of pastel colors glimmered here and there, some strands falling down to lie against his watery pale skin. His eyes were grayish-crimson. The robes he wore were pale blue, gossamer and silky.

"…I'm sorry about Selena. She was such a loyal person. Her love for Vigarde would drive her to the grave. I know it must have been hard for you to leave her body in the hands of those monsters that slew her, but you did the right thing by coming to me, old friends. I am only sorry that Glen could not be here," the young man said, shattering the silence.

"Glen is searching for his brother. Young Cormag was sent of a mission by Valter a while back, and he never returned. Glen will make it his life's mission to find him. But, I'm sure you knew that, Ciar," the old man said, addressing the younger man. Ciar nodded gravely.

"Then, you also knew that Selena would die?" asked the third man. He looked up at Ciar, locking eyes. Violet eyes locked with grey, and the third man saw within the deep gaze of the tyme-caster millions of years of regret and lament. It became so overpowering that the third man had to look away. "If you did know, then why did you not stop it?"

Ciar smiled softly, looking solemn as he spoke. "Ten years ago, a little girl asked me that same question. Now, I will give you the same answer. To be blessed with the power to look into the future comes with costs, Knoll. It is against the rules of the Priory to interfere with what is to come to pass. We feel it is not within our right to stop what is meant to be."

Knoll signed, frustration lacing through his every word. "_Why_ is there a rule such as that? If you could stop someone from dying, then why don't you? If you foresaw a rockslide and knew that a member of your own family was going to be crushed by a boulder, you would surely do something to stop it!"

The old man shot a look at Knoll. "Knoll, please calm yourself. I also grieve Selena's passing, but there is nothing that can be done about it. Harassing Ciar when he has been so kind as to provide us with a home while we are wanted men is not going to bring her back."

"He has a right to be angry with me, Duessel," Ciar said, holding up his hand as a signal for silence, "I could, and I probably should, have done something about Selena's death. I feel now like I should have ignored the rules of the Priory to save the life of a friend. And yet, they would have hunted me down for Interference. I would have lost my status as a tyme-caster and my rank as a Khalada. If I lost my rank…then…I would age millions of years over the course of a single day. I would become as I would have been. I would become dust."

"And we are glad you are not dust, Ciar. If you were dust, then we too would be dead. Life is cruel that way, I suppose. I see now that if you had saved Selena, we would have all died anyway," Duessel said sadly.

Knoll slowly nodded, taking a sip of his tea, "So…what you did was for the best."

Ciar slowly stood up, abandoning his cup and his chair. He slowly strode over to the shimmering glass windows, brushing aside the thin lace curtains to peer out at the barren cliffs and the silent village below, illuminated by the light of the setting sun.

"My friends, some times I wonder if what I do is for the better. I can remember forty years ago when I first met you, Duessel. You were just a recruit, no more than eleven years old. When I saw you standing in the market square, you were just a little lad, scared without your mother…I shared with you some of the treats my wife had made, and took you to the castle myself. Since then, Duessel, you have grown strong, noble, and brave. You are nothing like the boy you used to be. You have…" Pain filled his eyes, "…changed."

Duessel and Knoll said nothing, but stayed silent as they listened to the woes of the Khalada.

"Yet, I am as I was. I have not aged, I have not changed. I am still the same Ciar that I was forty years ago. I am the same man that I was a thousand years ago. My dearest wife, Min, died a long time ago, and my only child disappeared through the River to another world. I do not know what her life was like, but I am sure it is nearly over.

"Yesterday, I looked into the River. I saw the future. Magvel will be thrown into turmoil, but when the Preferred are needed, they will be gone into another Tyme. Many will feel betrayed, and lost. Yet they are not lost. The Preferred will be working to save them, even though they will not be _here_. There is till much you both, and Glen and his brother, can do to help Magvel," Ciar turned back to face them.

Duessel and Knoll exchanged glances. Duessel turned back to Ciar, who was still gazing pensively out the window. "What can we do to help?"

The tyme-caster turned and faced them both. He looked relieved, and yet filled with an apprehension. "There is a young girl who had been tortured and corrupted by the Dark Stone. As we speak, she flees blindly into the shadows. She will run north, into Renais. If you can find her before the Blood Beryl Riev captures her again, then she will prove a valuable asset to our cause. Her name…is Bekka. I'm sure you know her."

Knoll tensed and turned in his seat to look back into Ciar's eyes. "Do you mean…Riev's experiment? He completed it…"

Leaning back in his chair and taking a long sip of tea, Duessel sighed. "We must find her. That girl has been misused and violated by that damned bishop. Now, am I right to assume she is no longer human?"

Ciar nodded. "She is her inner spirit. That is what the Dark Stone does. It morphs and corrupts until inner spirit and mortal being become one. You will know her when you see her."

Knoll stood up, brushing dust from the back of his robes, addressing Ciar. "What will you do while we search for this creature?"

His pink lips turned into a lopsided smile, and the tyme-caster came over to collect the half-empty cups. "I shall wait here. Soon, the Preferred will come to me, and seek my assistance. I must prepare to give it to them. This is…the biggest battle I will ever face. I fear much more than the fate of Magvel is at stake. I must be ready to help. I fear that the safety of two worlds hangs in the balance, and maybe even the Priory its self is in danger."

Duessel stood up as well, an expression of worry for his old friend etched in his face. "Will you be all right?"

Ciar nodded, glancing out the window against as the sun set, watching the dusky beams fall across the gravestone that marked his wife's burial place. He did not look at either of the other men, so that they would not see the tears in his eyes.

"I must obey Tyme. To guide another generation of Preferred, to serve the Priory and the deities, to serve God himself in Heaven. To embrace the joy, agony, loss, sorrow…to allow the magic of the River to carry away those I love, while I remain stuck like a rock in the mud. To accept the duty and bear the burden. This is the fate of the Khalada."

He looked down at the dirty dishes he carried in his hands. Slowly, he set them down on the counter. Behind him, he heard Duessel whisper to Knoll. "We should leave him now. We must make haste in our search….Good-bye, friend. I pray we meet again."

He heard the door shut, but he did not turn his head. Ciar closed his eyes, letting the silence press in around him. The silence was the only think that did not change with him. No matter what, silence was always there, as was the loneliness. To the silence, he repeated himself.

"This is the fate of the Khalada. This is the Judgment of the River of Tyme."

* * *

Long, no?

That chapter drove me crazy when I was writing it, but I think it turned out nice. I wuvs Ciar. He's so…cool. He's one of those "watch the sun reflect in a glass of water" type of people.

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter! I would very much like to know!

Stay safe!

With Luck and Love,  
_Becca_

P.S. Yeah, the character Bekka is kinda based after me. It was a challenge a friend gave me. Make a character based after you, but the character can't be human. And thus, after a few trips to Dairy Queen and about a week of thinking, Bekka the Anthrochild was born.

Other Notes: _Khalada_ means "never-ending life" in Arabic.


End file.
